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Monthly Archives: December 2014

Neophyte

In the middle of our conversation

my eyes are drawn

to the pale,

translucent skin of your throat,

to the shadowed hollow

and your perfect bones.

.

I am struck blind

by the holiest of visions.

.

Later staring out of the darkness

my fears are stilled

by the soft

remembered curve of your smile,

and the touch of your hand

when once alone.

.

I am sublime 

with glorious religion.

.

Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph stolen from TheAppleScientist

I discovered today, quite by chance, that I had recorded the audio for this poem, but never published it. So a thin excuse for a repost

 
10 Comments

Posted by on December 30, 2014 in D/s, Poetry

 

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When it is all over

Party__s_over_by_fb101

When it is all over

When the festival has been scattered and strewn untidy across the street.

When the celebration is just a tangle of streamers, lost dreams and deflated balloons.

When the party is tired of music and dance.

When the guests have gone home.

When the fairy lights, strung out like bright and pretty promises, have all dimmed and died.

When the fairground has closed, the rides packed up and broken down.

When the torn posters all show yesterday’s date.

When the carnival has forever left town.

When it is all over.

She will be here.

Forsaking all others.

For me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from fb101

 
12 Comments

Posted by on December 26, 2014 in Still Life

 

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A holy season

A different perspective …

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

surrender_to_snow_by_portraitofalife-d2itgck

.

It is a holy season.

Cruel winds

shrill at the corners

scrub my face raw.

I hear a choir

dying in every gust.

.

It is a holy season.

Ragged chanting

from the perennial faithful

to celebrate birth.

.

It is a holy season.

Merciless children

torment the purses

of betrayed mothers,

extracting promises

like teeth.

.

It is a holy season.

Her head rests

blind

on my shoulder

leaking tears.

Her dead breath

is captured

in my curls.

.

It is a holy season.

I will undress it,

blue-fingered torture

from collar

to spine.

.

It is a holy season.

Licking thin lips

fresh with the taste

of salt and blood.

.

It is a holy season.

The meek

dream of inheritance

while the mighty

steal the shirts

from their backs.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written during a bitter winter long ago when…

View original post 23 more words

 
2 Comments

Posted by on December 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Blessing and Curse

The Assessors by Jack Vettriano

There are a hundred reasons.

Perhaps more.

Why you might long to be sexually owned.

Some might keep you awake at night, clenching your thighs with dewy desire.

Some might be so dark you can barely tell yourself, let alone confide in someone else

Some might have you desperately wishing your lover understood the nature of your need.

Some might have you scouring the internet for images of restraint. pleasure and pain.

Yet one thing is certain.

If it is true, and raw, and deep.

If it is an ache and a longing that seems to have been there even before the budding of your breasts.

If it is a yearning that leaves you breathless, desperate and wet contemplating its almost holy fulfilment…

Then the wanting will never, ever leave you.

No matter how hard you try to drown its insistent voice.

Or how often you indulge its persistent power.

It is a blessing

and a curse.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Jack Vettriano

 

 

 

 

 

 
16 Comments

Posted by on December 20, 2014 in D/s, Erotica

 

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The one

Heaven__s_a_lie____by_helionn

He knows no other way

It is simply who he is. The way he has always been.

His earliest erotic fantasies were of control. And of damsels in distress.

And yet also of goddesses and worship.

He loves women. With respect. With admiration. With a deep and endless desire.

He needs to adore and to be adored.

Over the years has taught himself to be a Master of exquisite pleasure and delicious pain. He has known beauty, sensuality and submission beyond words.

But now winter tugs at his coat. He has become lined and grizzled, etched and silver.

The night is long. And his fire burns low.

Yet there is a light. Innocent, pure and holy.

Could she be the one

the one

the one.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo/Art stolen from Helionn

 
6 Comments

Posted by on December 18, 2014 in D/s, Erotica

 

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Closer than ..

Please_believe_by_sivel12001

We have never been closer than this.

Your flickering eyelashes brush my cheek. Your breath is warm and fragrant with Chablis and olives. Your heartbeat is gentle and certain in the hushed stillness.

I mistake it for my own.

Your hand glides over the muscle of my thigh, your fingers trace a path between my legs. You draw delicious, delicate, dangerous circles in the dark nest of my pubic hair.

I caress your perfect face, your brave shoulders, your elegant neck. I half capture your gently pulsing throat between a long finger and thumb.

I can feel you smile in the dark.

Your body melts into mine.

We have never been closer than this.

Closer than skin.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

photo stolen from sivel12001

This was written in December 2012 and captures a very specific moment that happened earlier that year. My only excuses for posting it again are that new readers may not have found it, and I have added audio, And I like it.

 
13 Comments

Posted by on December 17, 2014 in D/s, Erotica, Lovers Past

 

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Blown away

Loui Jover

A girl

Pale and perfect. Pure and poised. Peerless pulchritude.

Her hair a lustrous, thick, dark cascade. Her eyes an eloquent, unexpected green.

Her mouth a soft and sensual promise, a dream of a kiss.

Her skin is almost luminous in the light of a winter day. The fading afternoon clings onto her, jealous of the dark.

Her body is a prayer of line and curve, a blessing of muscle and bone, a bible of heavenly anatomy.

Time stands still.

I hold my breath.

Her elegant fingers reach for the top button of her blouse. White as virgin snow.

A slow release.

The clothing parts to.reveal her.

Her throat, her cleavage, her belly.

A girl.

A woman.

And I am blown away.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art – Dark Siren by Loui Jover

 

 

 

 
14 Comments

Posted by on December 13, 2014 in D/s, Erotica

 

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